


carnal desires

by hakyeonni



Category: VIXX
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Lapdance, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, power bottom ravi, uhhh wonshik rides hakyeon basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakyeonni/pseuds/hakyeonni
Summary: “oh my god!” hakyeon crows over the music, not hiding his grin. “you made a stripper song.”





	carnal desires

“Good job, hyung! We got it!”

Hakyeon shoots Wonshik a grin and pushes away from the desk, his chair sailing clean across the room until he bumps into the sofa. “Awesome. Are we going to celebrate?”

It’d been Wonshik’s idea to recruit Hakyeon into singing the chorus on one of the songs for his upcoming mixtape, and Hakyeon had readily agreed. Whether he’s doing it out of genuine altruism or because of his giant crush on Wonshik that’s steadily refused to shift over the years, he can’t quite tell, and doesn’t much care, either. It means that this is the third night he’s spent with Wonshik in his studio, eating cup ramyun or pizza as he curls up on the sofa watching Wonshik or spending an age in front of the mic singing lines over and over again (because Wonshik has a perfectionist streak, as much as he doesn’t like to admit it). Sanghyuk, who’d twigged long ago just why Hakyeon can’t seem to keep himself from touching Wonshik all the time, gives him a raised eyebrow whenever they come back to the dorm, but he hasn’t said anything. Yet.

“Celebrate?” Wonshik murmurs, already peering at his computer screen, one hand on the mouse and the other hovering over the spacebar. “Why?”

“Because you’ve held me hostage for three days?” Hakyeon replies with only a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, leaning over to pat Butt. “Because I’m your hyung and your hyung wants a drink?” _Because your hyung wants to get drunk and kiss you?_ He doesn’t say that last one, but it hovers on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Wonshik keeps staring at his ass when he bends over, or the way he can’t keep his eyes off Hakyeon’s lips—he _hopes_ he isn’t, at least, and his patience is running thin.

“You don’t drink that often,” Wonshik mutters over his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Hakyeon takes measures into his own hands and steps over Butt, making his way to the bar fridge in the corner of the studio. Wonshik keeps his revolting protein shakes in here when he’s dieting, but for now all he can see is a dejected can of cola and—aha! two cans of Cass, which he loathes but fetches anyway because it’s better than nothing. “You’ll have to run downstairs and get more,” he murmurs, placing one on the desk in front of Wonshik and cupping the back of his neck for just a second, long enough for him to tear his eyes away from the computer screen, startled.

“Why don’t _you_ run downstairs and get more?” Wonshik suggests, but he shoots Hakyeon a smile as he cracks open his beer.

“Because I—”

Wonshik snorts. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the hyung. Got it.”

Before Hakyeon can say anything more, Wonshik turns back to his computer screen and starts pecking at the keys, leaving Hakyeon sitting on the sofa staring at the back of his head, his irritation rising. He loves Wonshik. He does. But his workaholic tendencies, normally amusing, become annoying when Hakyeon’s _right there_ , slumped on the sofa and feeling very put-out indeed. Sanghyuk would probably be proud of the way he’s pouting right now, but he’s not even putting it on for comedic effect. He wants Wonshik’s attention, and the moment he thinks that he realises he’s in far deeper than he realised.

“You’re better company,” he tells Butt—who just looks up at him disdainfully—before tipping his head back and sculling his beer in one long pull in terribly un-leaderlike fashion, giving absolutely no fucks because it’s late and he’s vaguely turned on and wants an excuse to do something about it. “Guess you’ll have to run out and get some,” he calls sweetly to Wonshik, waving his empty can in the air before setting it down on the coffee table.

Wonshik spins in his chair and cocks his head quizzically, his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging, Hakyeon crosses his legs. “Fine. Just bored. I don’t like being ignored.”

“I’m not ignoring you!” At this Wonshik gets up and stretches. Hakyeon doesn’t even pretend to avert his gaze from Wonshik’s belly, the grey of his new tattoo looking electric under the purple lights of the studio. “I just want to get this finished, hyung. I’ll go down and get us some more beer, ok?”

On his way out he ruffles Hakyeon’s hair, and Hakyeon doesn’t know whether that’s a good sign or not.

//

Four beers—each—later and Hakyeon’s starting to feel sufficiently tipsy, although he can’t tell whether Wonshik’s feeling the same. When he gets drunk he gets touchy, but seeing as Hakyeon’s curled up on the sofa stroking Butt’s ears and Wonshik’s at his desk, he doesn’t really have an opportunity to find out The more tipsy he gets the shyer he becomes, perverse to how alcohol usually makes him feel, and the distance between them seems like an untraversable gulf, one that’s getting wider by the second.

“What’re your other tracks like?”

Wonshik spins on the chair listlessly. “Hm?”

“For the mixtape.” Hakyeon leans back on the sofa, trying to look cool and calm even though the sight of Wonshik’s arm muscles flexing as he scratches his shoulder is setting off butterflies in his stomach. “I’ve only heard the track we’ve been working on. What are the other ones like?”

“They’re all mostly done,” Wonshik replies, spinning back around to open up his mixing software. “I still need to record proper vocals for the last track… Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Your favourite,” Hakyeon says, frowning as Butt hauls himself off the sofa and trots away.

At this, Wonshik glances back over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “My favourite is the one we did together.” The glance that they exchange then is heavy, weighty with something that Hakyeon hopes is desire but can’t really identify properly, before Wonshik turns back around. “But this is my second favourite.”

The beat that starts blasting through the speakers—loudly; Hakyeon doesn’t know how Wonshik hasn’t gone deaf yet because he never seems to adjust the volume—is sensual, smooth, exactly the type of thing Hakyeon can see Wonshik performing. He doesn’t even get a chance to adjust to it before the vocals start, and then he can’t really think of anything at all. Wonshik’s voice is gravelly, low; he sounds hoarse, and the things he’s saying—Hakyeon slowly draws his knees up to his chest, just in case he starts getting hard. This isn’t _lewd_ exactly, but it’s… suggestive. Highly suggestive.

“Oh my god!” he crows over the music, not hiding his grin. “You made a stripper song.”

Wonshik reaches across to turn down the volume. “What?”

“A stripper song! This is some _Magic Mike_ shit—”

“Hyung!”

Hakyeon stares him down. “Am I wrong? Come on. It’s like—what’s that American song? The one Jaehwan sings all the time?”

“Don’t—”

“ _If you’re horny, let’s do it_ ,” he starts singing, not least because Wonshik’s laughing so hard he can barely stay upright. “ _Ride it, my pony. My saddle’s waiting, come and jump on it_ —come on, Wonshik, I know you can dance to this. It’s a lapdance song.”

He’s just talking nonsense, letting the beer control his tongue, so he hadn’t actually expected Wonshik to get up. But then he is, and he’s making his way over to Hakyeon, but he’s not just walking over, no. A switch has been flicked. There’s a light burning behind his eyes that wasn’t there previously, his gaze intense as he moves his body to the beat; if Hakyeon was laughing before, he isn’t now.

“More sensual,” he murmurs, straightening out his legs as Wonshik gets closer. “Move your hips. You’re so _stiff_ , Wonshik—there, like that.”

All his words are ripped away from him, because then Wonshik’s sliding onto his lap, his thighs either side of Hakyeon’s. “I can’t believe you’re giving me dance tips when I’m giving you a lapdance,” Wonshik mutters, gyrating his hips in slow, undulating movements that make Hakyeon feel like he’s going insane. “Shut up and enjoy it, hyung.”

His mouth is dry as Wonshik takes Hakyeon’s hands and places them on his hips, and automatically he grips, his fingers digging into the flesh above Wonshik’s waistband. “I—” he starts, but then cuts himself off as Wonshik grinds down onto him, smirking as he tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Christ.”

“You’re hard, hyung,” Wonshik whispers, grinding down again before ripping his shirt up and over his head.

“You’re _grinding_ on me,” Hakyeon points out in return, although even to his ears he knows how raw his voice sounds. “What do you expect?”

Wonshik doesn’t answer, just takes one of Hakyeon’s hands on his hip and runs it up his stomach; Hakyeon gets the message and trails it up his sternum, drifting over his nipple, digging his nails into his chest to watch the way he reacts. “That feels good,” he mumbles, so Hakyeon does it again, and then tugs Wonshik closer to press biting, open-mouthed kisses up his body, enjoying making him shiver.

“Wonshik—” he starts, wanting to maybe say _Wonshik have you thought this through?_ or _Wonshik do you want to stop?_ or _Wonshik are you okay?_ or _Wonshik fuck I want to fuck you_ , but then Wonshik sits himself on Hakyeon’s lap fully, moving his hips back and forth, one hand tugging teasingly at the waistband of his sweatpants so Hakyeon can see the top of his pubic hair—and he can’t say anything but, “Please.”

In a flash he’s entirely naked and on Hakyeon’s lap again, and there’s so much of him that he doesn’t quite know what to do. Wonshik on stage shirtless or wandering around the dorm in his underwear is so different to _this_ , now he’s allowed to _touch_ , so he does. He splays one hand on the small of Wonshik’s back and pulls him closer, leans up to kiss him; it’s not soft and gentle as he imagined their first kiss to be, but that’s alright, because this heated mess of tongue and lips is far, far better. Wonshik kisses like he’s desperate, and maybe he is. Hakyeon is patently aware of Wonshik’s cock pressing into him, and he reaches between them to circle a hand around it.

“You okay?” he murmurs into the space between their lips. “I don’t want to pressure you—”

“Shut up, hyung,” Wonshik sighs into Hakyeon’s mouth, but he’s smiling and there’s warmth in the words. “You’re not pressuring me. I want—fuck, I want you—all of you.”

A shiver runs down his spine, delicious and slow, but he’s still fully clothed underneath Wonshik and that’s an issue. “Gonna let me up?”

Wonshik slides onto the sofa, and when Hakyeon stands up he realises he isn’t drunk at all, or at least not drunk off the beer. Instead it’s Wonshik’s gaze—he pulls his shirt off slowly, moving to the beat of the music that’s still fucking playing—that sets him alight from the inside-out. When he’s naked and standing in front of Wonshik again he doesn’t feel self-conscious, even though Wonshik’s practically devouring him with his eyes, his gaze raking over every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. Hakyeon can relate to that, actually. Even scrunched up on the sofa, the lines of Wonshik’s body are enough to have his head spinning as he sits back down and Wonshik clambers on top of him, linking his arms around Hakyeon’s neck to kiss him. They rut against each other lazily, but then Wonshik reaches down and winds his hand around both their cocks together, bringing them both off slowly, and—

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers, stilling under Wonshik’s touch to underscore the seriousness of what he’s asking. “Is that okay?”

He’s not thinking of the consequences as Wonshik grins at him and gets up once more to fetch condoms and a small bottle of lube from a drawer (“we’ll have a conversation about that, later,” Hakyeon says in a leaderly tone with a pointed eyebrow raise), although he probably should be. After all, fucking one of your group members—well, it’s not the status quo, as far as he’s aware. But he’s too turned on to care, too caught up in Wonshik to mind what the others will think when they inevitably find out, and when Wonshik slides a slick finger inside himself he can’t think of anything but the overwhelming desire and longing choking him so exquisitely painfully.

“Touch yourself,” Wonshik huffs, and then grimaces when Hakyeon levels him with a stare. “Hyung, touch yourself hyung, please.”

He circles a hand around his cock and starts stroking himself slowly, just watching Wonshik. His body is twisted at an awkward angle, one hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder to steady himself, the other sliding in and out of himself at a pace that has Hakyeon’s blood turning to liquid gold—but he looks like he could be a sculpture, something someone crafted out of marble, and, oh, it’s too much, far too much. “Wonshik,” he whispers, and he allows some of his desperation to bleed through in his voice and in his gaze, worth it to hear the way Wonshik stops breathing entirely when he sees it. “I need you.”

“Please,” Wonshik gasps, and so obligingly Hakyeon takes one of the condoms and puts it on, holding himself still as Wonshik aligns himself and slowly, slowly slides down onto Hakyeon, moaning when they’re flush, no space between them. “Fuck, hyung. You feel so good. So, so so good, God.”

Hakyeon’s not exactly surprised Wonshik is mouthy during sex—they’ve barely begun and he’s already beginning to fall apart at the seams, trembling all over with desire—but he hadn’t expected it to turn him on this much. When Wonshik begins moving, begins fucking himself on Hakyeon’s cock, he swears they are both about to be devoured by the lust that moves in them, because, god, he’s never felt like this before. He realises it’s a cliche as soon as he thinks it, but Wonshik’s so hot and tight around him and he looks so unbelievably striking from this angle, his head tipped back and his face screwed up, the both of them lit in shades of violet from Wonshik’s lights, and it all makes sense. The fact that they’ve been building towards this for what seems like years only makes it sweeter.

The music is still playing low in the background, providing a sensual soundtrack to the filthy noises of sex: the slap of their bodies, the grunts and moans, the squeaks of the leather sofa. It just arouses Hakyeon all the more, but it’s all he can do to cling onto Wonshik’s waist and let him set the pace. He doesn’t even know if he can do anything but that, really. Everything else fades away to just this, just the two of them, and his heart is beating in his mouth as Wonshik picks up the pace. What makes it worse—or better, he’s not lucid enough to tell—is the fact that when Wonshik gets fucked like this, the litany of nonsense that falls from his lips (“Hakyeon hyung you feel so good oh god please fuck me harder”) comes out deeper than usual, his voice even _more_ gravelly and low, and Hakyeon can barely stand to hear it. When Wonshik opens his eyes to look at Hakyeon, mumbling sweet nothings—oh, god, he tips perilously close to coming right then and there, because Wonshik looks _wrecked_. He looks wrecked and fucked-out and beautiful and he’s all Hakyeon’s, all his—

“Come for me, hyung,” Wonshik hisses all of a sudden, leaning forward to splay both hands on the sofa behind Hakyeon. “I wanna see your face when you come.”

It’s the single most erotic thing that anyone’s ever said, and Hakyeon is helpless to resist. His orgasm rips through him, sweeping away everything and leaving him nothing but a tingling mess of pleasure and nerve endings alight with a warm affection that colours everything as he stills Wonshik’s hips, gasping. “Jesus,” he breathes, focusing on Wonshik’s face. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Wonshik grunts. “I—”

Whatever he was about to say falls away because Hakyeon curls a hand around his cock and starts jerking him off, slowly at first but picking up a frantic pace when he sees how Wonshik starts writhing under the touch. It’s only a matter of moments before he’s on the verge of coming, and Hakyeon closes his eyes for a second to commit that image to memory: whiny, sweaty Wonshik, still with Hakyeon’s cock inside him, trembling from the desire to come. When he does come it’s with a shout that trails off into a moan, and then he slumps forward onto Hakyeon, the both of them breathing heavily.

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon murmurs, pressing a kiss to Wonshik’s damp shoulder. “Wonshikie. You’re smothering me.”

“Sorry,” Wonshik croaks, lurching upright. He clambers off Hakyeon and falls onto the sofa next to him, ending up with his head on Hakyeon’s shoulder. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

Hakyeon makes a noise of assent, turning to drop another kiss on the crown of Wonshik’s head. He’s all warm inside; it’s a feeling of contentment he hasn’t felt in a while, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. “You know,” he starts, and Wonshik sits up, “I don’t know how you’ll be able to perform this song live with a straight face.”

Wonshik just looks at him for a second, startled, before they both burst out laughing, leaning into each other—because the song is still playing on repeat, familiar and welcome now. It’s really not all that funny, but as they get dressed (slowly, because Hakyeon keeps touching Wonshik, splaying his hand on his belly or his back just because he can) they keep looking at each other and breaking out into new rounds of giggles before Wonshik finally hits pause and they’re plunged into silence.

“Does it have a name yet?” Hakyeon asks sweetly, winding his arms around Wonshik’s waist. “Because if not, you better name it after me.”

“Fuck off, hyung,” Wonshik replies in an long-suffering tone—but it’s belied by the way he turns around to draw Hakyeon into a kiss, a smile on his lips, nothing but happiness and warmth between them.

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo i saw the image that hakyeon posted yesterday backstage at ravi's concert, and then saw the photos of ravi shirtless on stage, and my brain somehow? connected the two?? and yall got this??
> 
> as per usual with my PWPs it was written very fast in one sitting very late at night so excuse any typos blah blah
> 
> this is the second time i've written ravo gettin freaky w/ someone in his studio. maybe i should write the other 3 pairings and make it a series


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